Grasp
by Annioshi
Summary: It's the Summer after. Five years have passed and Fuji's on his own, returning to life in Japan. It's all he can do just to remain himself, let alone remember others. Dont panic, Don't forget, Hold tight. -Niou/Fuji-
1. England

**Name: **Grasp  
**Author: **Tin  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned PoT, it wouldn't be _nearly_ as straight as it is. And that _is_ saying something.  
**Summary:** It was the second year of high-school when Fuji made his choice to leave Japan for England, and it's a choice that he's still not sure of. Currently, it's the end of the second year and for his third and fourth, he's flying back to T-University in Japan. He doesn't know what to expect from the people he left, and those that he's missed. It's not his life anymore, the one he left behind.  
**Pairing**: Niou/Fuji. It's not a pairing I'm particularly keen on, honestly, but I owe someone a favour.  
**Beta:** It's un-betaed so I'd really appreciate any errors pointed out to me. I _love_ CC, so if you feel the need to say anything, please, please don't think you're hurting my feelings saying it. Especially with the tensing of this story.

* * *

It has been five years since the end of the National finals. Fuji sits at the foot of the oak blossom tree at the student housing courtyard. Five years. Five more ticks of the hand in the clock that is eternity.

Looking back, he thinks that moving to England was probably one of the best moves he's ever made. By the time he'd reached second year of high-school he'd realised that it was time to stop playing games. It had taken a lot of time to convince his parents. No, that was wrong. It had taken a lot of time to convince _himself_ that a move would be the right thing to do. His parents had been hesitant, but understood that even the most beautiful plants needed space to be able to flourish. It had been hardest to tell his siblings that he'd been overseas. His sister pleaded with him to stay in Japan, just so that he could visit, he understood that she didn't want to lose _both_ of her brothers. Yuuta simply looked confused, grunted and kept quiet, but the looks he gave Fuji from the corner of his eyes simply told him that he couldn't accept the change of pace life without his brother's nagging would bring.

It's the second year of his course at the University of Leicester. A course in graphical and textural design and engineering, it was the way he was headed with life from the start. He's coming back to Japan to finish his degree, it's part of a change-over programme.

He tilts his head back to rest against the brittle wood and opens his eyes. The sun shimmers peacefully through the lattice of fine green leaves and petals above his head. The wind dances through his hair and shakes the gallery of colour above him. He sighs. It's days like this that remind him of the hot summers in Japan, sitting under the canopy of bright cherry blossoms eating bentos and sipping coke, laughing with the team. The team. They had taken it as badly as he had expected. The incredulous stares, the opening wide of the eyes. They hadn't really surprised him. The surprise came at the airport, when he thought that the wonderful friendships that he'd built his walls around had been so carefully obliterated. He was greeted in the queue for check-in with a hand on each shoulder.

"Don't let your guard down," One voice said, monotonously.

"Make sure you eat well," said another, as though in reply to the first.

Fuji had never been one for tears. His friends were there in that brief moment. Just the two of them that had come to see him off. And in that brief moment, he wasn't alone in his convictions. Yet, also, in that moment, he'd never felt so unsure of himself.

Fuji lets himself be carried away with his daydream, enjoying the limited hours of the British Summertime. He forces himself not to think of the reactions upon his arrival back in Japan. Will he be greeted by those friends he left? Will they be angry that he left them at such a time? Bitter, perhaps by the abrupt nature of his departure? Or will they have forgotten him completely? It's possible that he was just another face in their childhoods, and that no, he never made any lasting impression on them at all. That thought, he believes, is the one that scares him most.

Fuji groans, and shivers. He blinks away the sleep that's left as a residue in his heavy eyelids and stretches his back. His bed feels surprisingly rough and uncomfortable. He realises that he's still outside, and that it's dark, very dark, and the green of the grass has probably stained his trousers. He almost curses, then respects the night and uses the tree as a support to pull himself to a standing position. He stumbles, his legs still dead from the break in their use. He has a paper due day after tomorrow, or is it even today. He'd planned for it, and everything. This time, he _does_ curse. He picks up the satchel that he had dumped so unceremoniously on the ground next to him and treks back through the garden to the entrance to the halls of residency. He murmurs to the night-man that he's sorry he's late back in, and he sweeps himself through with his card-key. The man on duty stares at him, and Fuji knows that he's being judged. _So who's party were __**you**__ at tonight?_ He can almost hear the unasked question hanging in the air, and he wants to just tell the man what happened, but his legs are aching from the strain of movement, and his head is lolling forward despite his own will to maintain it's upright position. He drags his feet to the elevator and hits the button for his floor, scooting across the floor to his door number and he sort of jabs the key-card into the lock because he really doesn't have the effort to do any more than that. The lock beeps and the door swings open.

He drops his bag by the door, besmirching the perfect state of his room, and loosens his tie. He shuffles his shoes off and sort of makes a half-assed attempt at unbuttoning his shirt before he flings himself on the bed, face down and dozes off. Dreaming about the cherry blossom petals twirling themselves around his camera lens, before suddenly melting into puddles of rain. He tosses and turns.

He forgets to set his alarm. _Shit_. It's a good thing that Fuji has always been an early waker otherwise would probably have skipped classes today entirely. He throws on whatever he can find and sprays himself with whatever cologne is handy, before dashing out of the apartment. He's already missed breakfast. He hopes he's not missed the bus too.

*

It turns out that, by some stroke of luck (inappropriately named, 'The British Transport Service,') he hasn't missed the bus at all, and the 42 takes him to the University in ten minutes. He isn't late, yet, but he still has no paper, and no paper means being docked a mark for every late day. Judging by the state of him at the moment, though, Fuji assumes that he's going to be at least fifty days late, meaning, at best, he can make it with twelve marks. He shakes his head, he's joking with himself. Schooling his face into the epitome of model student he walks into his lecture hall, the regular small smile playing at his pale lips. He slides into the his regular seat nearer the front of the circular room than the back. Pulling books from his bag he lays them on the table in perfect order and sits back, breathing properly for the first time all morning. The girl next to him smiles apologetically and asks him for a pencil, he reaches into his bag and hands one to her, his smile in place. He catches her gazing at him every lesson. She blushes profusely and her smile changes to that of a coy one. He turns to the front, and knows that she's just turned to face her friends and giggle. He just knows.

He isn't interested. If he were she would be fairly pretty. Wafty dark brown hair, and green eyes, over freckled features; so typical to England. It is just as well that he isn't interested, because he's just not had time to think about such things since he came to England. It's just not been in his priority list at all.

He doesn't concentrate through the lecture, it's not altogether that important though. He has the books for the topic they're covering and it's just a paragraph or two of easy research for him to do.

The day just stretches on and on and on, and finally when it's time to go back home, he sort of pulls himself onto the bus and forgets about Uni, concentrating on other things that, at the moment, take priority. It is only another week before the term is over, and he departs for Japan. He has no accommodation sorted, nor any means of commuting to the T-University planned. By the time he's back at his room, and his computer is on, he's so completely spaced out that the words he is writing aren't making any sense to him. He stretches up, and uses the decanter he's put on the shelf to pour himself a cup of coffee. He doesn't like coffee, but drinks it anyway. He feels the sting of bitter in his mouth burning its way down his throat. He clicks his mail button, and he's almost surprised to find an email from his sister:

**Re:** Re: How is the Hunt?

_Syuusuke, have you found a place to stay yet? Is there no apartment near to the University? Are you sure you don't want to come back and stay at home, you'd be very welcome here as always. We miss you very much, Yuuta especially, I know he does, even if he wont admit it. We're glad that you're coming back soon though! It seems forever since Christmas vacation!_

_Let me know._

_Yumiko._

Fuji blinks: the Japanese feels foreign to him. English has been all he's used for the last six months. Even in emails and the short conversations he has with his family, his Japanese is cut and curt. He had briefly visited his siblings during Christmas break, it had been a good break from the worries that schooled-life have become. The words, 'at home,' feel bitter to him, it almost makes bile rise in his throat. Not because it _was_ not his home, for it had been a wonderful home, but that was all it _had_ been. It is no longer his place, and once again, the regret of his decision to leave it floods his thoughts.

He pulls himself together, and musters up enough mental power to finish his paper. It will get him a good grade, as he knows it always does, and he focuses on finding a solution to the impending problem of what to do when he gets back to Japan. He doesn't reply to the email.

*

It must be some six hours later when Fuji finds what he's looking for. It's a modest apartment; a bedroom (with only a single bed), and a small en suite bathroom. It is fitted with a small kitchen and a fair sized living room. It's just right for him and his purposes and costs the equivalent of about £550 pounds a month, or £120,000 to buy. He decides that he'll rent it because even though his students income _will_ pay for the deposit, the money could be better spent for now.

It's the second night that he sort of half collapses into bed, and lying there before sleep takes him away, he realises that he's only eaten once today.

*

It's Friday morning and classes don't start until 3:00. Fuji takes his time getting out of bed. Stretching and blinking, before shutting his eyes again. He places his feet on the floor, and feels the cold run through his legs in a slight shock. There's a huge breakfast waiting for him at the mess hall that morning: pancakes and and syrup, the American kind, and tall glasses of orange juice. He eats like he hasn't seen food in about a week before straightening himself up and returning to his room. It takes about twelve seconds before his paper prints, and he sorts his bag. He knows he hasn't changed much since high-school. He's taller, marginally, and his hair is a little longer. He still wears the woollen sweater vests, and high-button shirts. He still looks at the back of his eyelids, instead of at the world.

Classes don't drag as much today. He has to pay attention. By the time they end, the girl he'd been sitting next introduces herself as Sarah, and invites him to a, 'café for coffee.' He does the polite thing and agrees, even though he hates the idea. Sarah turns out to be from another city in England, called Sheffield. It's not one that Fuji's heard of properly. She says it's not the nicest place.

"Some people call it the steel city, because they used to make the steel there in Industrial times, it was one of the front runners, you know?" She talks enough for the both of them, and Fuji just sits there and observes her, the smile unmoving on his face. He nods when it's required, and he adds in little particles of speech, 'why,'s and, 'really,'s. She carries on talking and then asks if he'd like to get together again in the holidays. He almost says yes, but then he remembers and turns her down, sweetly and calmly.

"I go back to Japan next Friday evening." He can see the fall in her features, and then their immediate pick up.

"Oh, well that's safe then, yeah? I, uh, have you got email? Keep in touch and stuff, yeah?"

He nods, and it occurs to him that this girl might actually _like_ him, more than the girls at valentines day with chocolates in school, but honest liking. The fact that he's leaving saddens him slightly, but only slightly.

He walks her home, and she smiles sweetly at him from the doorstep of the house she shares with her friends. She quickly shoves a piece of paper into his hands, and then steps inside, smiling at him again. The same soft smile that she'd smiled in the lecture hall the day before. He feels an acute sense of confusion as he looks at the paper and thinks of the girl he'd just had coffee with.

"Saz Jones. - S_AJh..." it continues in a similar manner. He slips it in his pocket and left for his room.

He will have to start packing on Saturday, otherwise he'll be cutting it fine. He spends a couple of hours researching the proper transport routes he needs, then lists of places to eat at. He begins to budget things, and before he knows it, the technical jabber is all finished and done with. He almost sighs with relief. Almost. Then the reality of going back to Japan really settles down on his shoulders and the fear of becoming part of the past begins to rear. Like it or not, he is going back to his home.

* * *

I don't care if it's Anon, if you enjoyed it, please drop a comment, if you didn't then please tell me why. 3


	2. Pieces

**Name: **Grasp  
**Author: **Tin  
**Disclaimer: **If I owned PoT, why the _hell_ would I be writing fanfiction about it?  
**Summary:** It was the second year of high-school when Fuji made his choice to leave Japan for England, and it's a choice that he's still not sure of. Currently, it's the end of the second year and for his third and fourth, he's flying back to T-University in Japan. He doesn't know what to expect from the people he left, and those that he's missed. It's not his life anymore, the one he left behind.  
**Pairing**: Niou/Fuji. It's not a pairing I'm particularly keen on, honestly, but I owe someone a favour.  
**Beta:** It's un-betaed so I'd really appreciate any errors pointed out to me. I _love_ CC, so if you feel the need to say anything, please, please don't think you're hurting my feelings saying it. Especially with the tensing of this story.

**

* * *

**Fuji's flight leaves at half-past three in the afternoon from London Heathrow. The coach journey down is a bitch of one and he struggles to quell the feeling of nausea that threatens to overcome him in the crowded, dense bus. He presses his cheek to the cold glass of the window and tries in vain to sleep. The person sat on his right is playing music through her headphones at full blast, and without trying he can hear the words; '_oh we're beautiful, we're dirty, rich._' Fuji tries to tune out, it's making his head throb. It's like this the entire trip, and of course, there are no restroom breaks. By the time they reach the second terminal of the airport, he feels like kissing the bare ground, for simple relief of getting off the God-awful coach.

Checking in is yet another painful experience. He fumbles with his bag clasp and nearly drops his ticket. His gate is the furthest away. He has to bin most of his hand baggage due to the liquid requirements. The only thing he keeps is a small tub of Vaseline for his fingers. He can't stand the feeling of his hands rough and dry. By the time he's inside the boarding lounge, it's quarter to two. He wants to sleep, but he doesn't want to at the same time; it's too close to his flight and he doesn't want to risk missing his plane. Instead he sits down and pulls out of his bag a worn copy of the Little Prince in it's French. It's pages are dog-eared, weathered and soft from the thousands of times they've been turned, and there are pencil notations and translations in Japanese and English scattered across the pages. He starts to read. Time flies, and he doesn't realise how late it is until his flight number is called. He closes the book carefully, stuffing it back into his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. It takes less than five minutes to board the plane and he takes his seat. It's just behind the wing, which means he can see the sky perfectly. It's weird that in comparison to everyone he knows, he loves flying the most. The thrill of take off, or the elation of landing, or possibly the colour of the sky during sunsets. He muses that it's probably a combination of many different things, and that thought amuses him slightly. The flight takes off about fifteen minutes after he's boarded the plane, and he looks out of the window to see the city of London shrink into the Earth. He waits for the seatbelt sign to disappear and leans his head back, allowing himself to slink into a light, uneasy sleep.

He wakes groggily, as one does on a flight. It's never a simple sleep. He can't really stretch, so he rubs his eyes awake. The people around him are asleep too, and the lights of the cabin have dimmed. He opens the slot window a fraction, to be rewarded with a hanging darkness. He stares out into the sky. It's beautiful. There's no polluted sky to see, they were most likely over an ocean. He smiles absently to himself, and stretches his shoulders back. He leans his head back and looks at the cabin top. He wants to reach in to his bag and pull out his MP3, but he's stuffed it into overhead and he doesn't want to disturb the person beside him who's sleeping. He thinks instead. Who should he see first. There's Oishi, Eiji or Taka-san, maybe even Tezuka. Will they have changed? _Of course they will_. His mind replies. The idea of change doesn't sit well in him. It mutates and crawls down his throat, settling heavy in the bottom of his stomach. He thinks about his family. He briefly saw them, but only briefly. He's barely been talking to them and the guilt burns up in his veins, combining itself with the unease of change. He thinks about what to say to everyone. How to say it. He thinks until his mind stops him, and the blanket of worry pulls him into another light sleep.

He wakes up when the stewardess taps him on the shoulder for landing. He feels a surge of relief at the thought of a comfortable bed, and hopes that his sister sorted the apartment contract successfully. He really doesn't want to have to deal with a spending the night sorting it himself. His stomach is in his chest as the plane touches down, and he closes his eyes again, waiting for the plane's taxi to finish and for him to be able to get off the plane.

*

He arrives at his apartment complex at a time akin to 12am and heads in to the Landlord's office, there's an envelope with his name on it. He opens it and finds a detailed letter cluing him in to what features the apartment block contains. The letter also holds a small, brass key. He puts both in his pocket and drags his suitcases upstairs with the help of the taxi driver who's been waiting so patiently outside. The door feels unbelievably heavy when he opens it, though he supposes that's because he's barely got enough strength in him to move his legs, let alone his arms **and** legs at the same time. He pays the taxi driver and bids him goodnight. The apartment is bare, but it's got the necessities and that's enough for the moment. He collapses on the bed, and sleeps until he wakes up, both stiff and fresh. His hair is somewhat of a mess, but it doesn't really matter to him. He stretches, and hears the bones in his back groan in protest.

The living room is much bigger than he thought it would be, and he can't really decide whether that's a good or a bad thing. It comes with a couch, table and shelves. There's a TV stand in the corner, and a set of yellowing curtains on the windows. The walls are pale cream patterned with both deliberate and accidental stains. Fuji strolls through idly into the kitchen, which is instead a light blue colour. It makes an odd change on Fuji's eyes, but it's not unpleasant. There's a fridge and cupboards. He doubles back to the bedroom, which is a similar colour to the kitchen, and picks a towel and some shampoo. The shower is warm, and thankfully, not weak and when it's done, he decides that it might be a good time to check his phone. His sister has probably left around two (maybe three) dozen messages, wondering how he is. He's not far off. There are a lot of messages, and he sort of half smirks at the phone screen because he's right, and that's a victory. When he rings her back, he isn't surprised to hear her worried voice through the speaker. It makes his mind snap back to Japanese like a whip.

"Where are you? Are you okay? Is everything at the apartment sorted? _Syuusuke, answer me_."

"Ah, Nii-chan, I'm fine." Is all he can really say. "Yes the apartment is also okay." He adds as an afterthought. He hears her sigh of relief, and her invitation to dinner. He says, 'yes,' because they're his _family_ and he really does love them, even if it's been such a long time.

Before dinner, though, he needs to go and buy food. He fixes himself up, and makes a promise that he'll unpack later, after he's successfully stocked up on some sort of sustenance.

*

All things considered, the shopping mall isn't much different to what it was when he left two years ago. Either that, or he spent so little time in the mall to begin with, there wasn't really much of a memory of it anyway. It's clean, like he remembers, and it's busy. He manages to pick up enough food to last him for approximately two days, as well as a newspaper, because it can't hurt to know what's going on. It's as he leaves the shop that he hears a loud shout of, "Fuji-san?!" and he spins to see who exactly it is.

The girl who's stood there has long brown hair, and dark blue eyes. She's slender and fairly tall, and he blinks because he's hit with the realisation of who it is. "An-san?" He doesn't know whether -chan is appropriate after so long away. She smiles at him widely and waves like a madwoman. He smiles, properly. He notices that she's taken after her brother in the way she stands; tall and proud. He also notices that she's followed by a lanky boy, with hair flopping in front of his face and down to his shoulders. It's dark red, and he remembers that this is probably Fudoumine's old Kamio-kun. They look much older, and it occurs to him that they _are_ older. They're only a year or two years younger than he is and it's been a long time since the last time they'd seen each other.

"How have you been, Fuji-san? I thought you left for England? Are you visiting for the holidays?" An asks, politely, but there's an excitement that comes with curiosity that's badly masked in her voice.

"Ah, no, I'm transferring back here for the last two years of my course."

"_Really?_ My brother will be so happy!"

Fuji smiles. Tachibana was a nice guy, one of Fuji's close acquaintances when he'd left. They'd spoken occasionally by e-mail and the like, but really there was a big gap in the years, when they hadn't spoken at all. It had been like that with everyone.

"...So I was wondering it you'd like to come?"

Fuji blinked, he didn't realise she had been talking.

"Ah, I'm sorry, come again? I'm still jet-lagged I think." He topped it off with a serene smile.

"There's a get together, my brother is inviting some of his friends, and I'm sure you're welcome. It'll be quite a big reunion I think. There are a lot of people coming, and I'm sure you know quite a few of them."

"Oh, I don't know..." Fuji's heart jumps to his throat, who would he know?

"Please, my brother would love to hear from you, I'll stop by at your house."

"But I don't li-"

"Well, I have to go, or Kamio and I'll miss our movie. See you soon hopefully!"

They are off before he could mention that he no longer _lived_ at the same house. He sighs and starts walking back home.

*

Dinner is odd. It somehow makes him incredibly happy to see his siblings again though. They haven't changed much in the last six months, but they've changed enough to be strange to Fuji. Yuuta looks the same; his hair is still cropped and his face severe, even when blushing. His sister is just as pretty as ever, only her hair is shorter than it was, their parents are abroad on business. As it turns out Yuuta is going to this get-together of Tachibana's, because he's made quite good friends with An, and that's warrant enough for an invite.

They're talking most of the night, and by the time Fuji gets back to the apartment, he makes himself promise again that he'll clean the apartment. He even writes it down and sticks it to the mirror.

In the morning, he is woken by a phone call to his mobile. He answers it, voice thick with the huskiness of sleep.

"Oh Fuji-san, good morning!"

"Uhh.."

"It's An. The meeting is at 7:00 tonight, at the grey bear inn. Please come, it'll be fun. Honest."

He doesn't have a chance to argue, or even ask _why_ or _how_ she knows his phone number. She's already hung up on him. He rubs his temples and makes an effort to unpack. There's just so much _stuff._ It takes hours, and he doesn't realise the time is flying past until it's almost 6 pm. By the time he leaves it's 6:30, and he catches a cab to take him to the pub.

Arriving there he steps out of the car and feels awkward immediately. He doesn't really recognise many people, until he feels a tap on the shoulder and turns to see the host himself stood there, the same smile plastered on his features. His hair a mane of blonde and the same spot placed in the centre of his head. His face has matured, but he is still the same person, and Fuji knows it. He feels young in comparison.

"Come on, lets get a drink." Is all the lion-like man says. Fuji follows him. They order drinks and talk, for what seems like a long time but is more like fifteen minutes, all the while, guests arriving. "Look, there are people that you might know arriving." He points out, and Fuji smiles at him, allowing him to go talk to other guests. He makes an effort to try and socialise, until he's pulled aside by an arm. He finds himself amongst a tangle of people, and one of them smirks at him, tangles of black hair flooding over deep green eyes. Fuji inhales sharply, and fixes the smile on his face.

"Kirihara-kun." He nods, and is rewarded with a brilliant smile from the younger boy.

"Fuji-san, I thought you were in America," he says. The bite of his voice no different from how it used to be.

"England, and clearly, I'm not still there." The curly-haired boy cackled, or laughed, Fuji couldn't tell the difference.

"I'm here with my senpai. You can join us it you want." And Fuji gracefully accepts, because he feels really out of place here and it's starting to make him feel light-headed. The people present from old-Rikkai are Yukimura and Yanagi, Niou and Kirihara, he notes that Marui sits in too. The others are studying abroad, or so he thinks. He scoots in next to everyone, and hears it mentioned that the rest of Seigaku isn't invited, and those who were are in various places doing things that are more important than slacking off partying. Rikkai has always been a weird team to Fuji, and they still are. They feel like a jigsaw that's fit with pieces from random puzzles that have been jammed together and _made_ to fit, and they do fit, but in a strange way. He sort of fits himself into the conversation, a stranger to this jigsaw. He laughs at the right moments and finds it kind of comfortable. The conversation goes on for a long time.

"So what made you come back to Japan?" Yanagi asks.

"The course is much better, I suppose."

"That sounds like a good move," Yukimura adds.

"And I guess I felt a little homesick." He feels sick saying these words, especially when they're such a lie.

He shivers and turns, only to find Niou staring at him with dark eyes. The look he's getting is almost questioning, it's stripping and Fuji doesn't like it at all. He almost gets up, but he doesn't. The rest of the team don't really seem to be watching, or realising the discomfort, but Niou's eyes are still on him and the stare is boring into him. He smiles and ignores it, but the thought sticks in the back of his head and he can picture Niou's eyes. He almost forgets while he's talking, and drinking. It must be around half 9 when Yukimura and Yanagi leave. They live furthest away. Marui is next to go, and it's just Kirihara, Niou and him. The party is quieting down, and people are trickling away. Kirihara is staying at the Tachibana residence and Fuji gets up to leave, only to feel Niou stand up behind him.

"Are you leaving, Niou-kun?" The other man nods. It's still him, and that's obvious, but he's different. His hair is black, though it's still worn in the same style, and he's taller. His face is older, but pale and handsome in an indirect way. He is leaning back in skin-tight jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt. Fuji raises an eyebrow in question, and Niou shrugs.

"Tachibana-san," Fuji walks up to the other, Niou still tailing him, "Thank you, I'm sorry about not e-mailing you often. Uh, we'll talk."

"Thank you for coming Fuji,' Tachibana says, and Fuji knows he means it. He smiles and then heads towards the door. Niou trails close behind him. He hasn't spoken once as far as Fuji remembers, and that itself makes him suspicious. They're outside in the alley now, and Niou is still behind Fuji, he's about to hail a taxi and can't help wondering what Niou is going to do.

"Share a cab?" he asks. He receives a half shrug. He takes it as a yes. He puts an arm out to stop a cab by the side of the in, where the light is dim and Fuji think's it's odd to be here in the dark. And then he feels something collide with his side. He is pressed into the wall of the building, the yellowish light of the street lamp glowing down. He opens his eyes in shock to feel a pair of lips at his ear; warm breath ghosting over the skin of his neck, and he shivers again, despite himself.

"_Stop pretending._" And then the other who is pressed to him recoils and is walking away. Fuji doesn't know what to make of this, and he sinks to the floor back still against the wall. His eyes still open, and the night's darkness closing in on him quietly.

* * *

Comments are love, so are CC. (: Thank you.


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